


how I let you slip away

by MisanthropyMuse



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Description of the Force, Gen, Meditation, Memories, Mentions of canon character death, Obi-Wan Kenobi on Tatooine, POV Obi-Wan Kenobi, Post-Order 66 (Star Wars), References to Mortis Arc (Star Wars: The Clone Wars), Regret, Self-Doubt, Self-Reflection, Spoilers for Clone Wars - Episode: s05e16, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:07:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29003472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisanthropyMuse/pseuds/MisanthropyMuse
Summary: "Love and loss and pain, forty years of it, haunt him relentlessly, and he has no way of fighting them, nowhere to hide, but all the time in the world to walk and think, think and walk, and then, exhausted, to sit and meditate."Obi-Wan meditates over his life and remembers some fragments of his past that keep haunting him, hindering his search for peace and acceptance.WARNING: some spoilers for clone wars seasons 3 and 5.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 5
Kudos: 15





	how I let you slip away

“ _Now I'd die for one more day  
'Cause there's something I should have told you  
There's something I should have told you  
When I looked into your eyes_ „

**_Your Eyes - Rent_ **

Tatooine looks the exact same every day. Unrelenting sunlight shining in the immense blue sky above the expanse of golden dunes spread out as far as the eye can see. In the distance, the dunes quiver in the heat, as do the occasional lines of Sand people crossing the desert.

Before moving there, Obi-Wan had always longed for quiet.

The life of a Jedi can often be frenetic, jumping from an assignment to the next, from battles to diplomatic missions, the endless talking and listening and fighting and flying. Sometimes the noise just got to be too much, almost overwhelming, and Obi-Wan often yearned for silence and peace. The brief moments he could take for himself, to sit alone and meditate, were the only thing that helped him stay sane over the years.

He had presumed it would have been be easy for him, going into exile on a desert planet, almost soothing, even, after all the noise of the war.

Now, about five years since he last descended from a spaceship, sometimes he catches himself thinking with bitter amusement about how much he had overestimated himself.

Nothing has gone the way he hoped, and with Owen Lars forbidding him to have any contact with Luke, all he has to do was hide, meditate, and wait.

From his small synstone hut, the only building in sight for hundreds of miles, all he has to entertain him is the wind sweeping across the dunes and the churning of the vaporator outside his hut. He’s almost glad when groups of Sand people pass near his home, the cries of banthas and the clicking sounds of Tusken a welcome respite for his ears. Even the high-pitched screams of the Jawa are better than the sound of his own voice in his head.

Now, after a lifetime of serving and fighting and travelling the galaxy meeting all kinds of people, silence and solitude are his only constant companions, but with them comes hardly any of the peace he longs for. Instead, there, nothing can protect Obi-Wan from the storm of thoughts and memories raging constantly in his mind. Love and loss and pain, forty years of it, haunt him relentlessly, and he has no way of fighting them, nowhere to hide, but all the time in the world to walk and think, think and walk, and then, exhausted, to sit and meditate.

Sat on a rock on the edge of the cliff his small hut is perched on, Obi-Wan takes a deep breath. As his robe flaps softly in the warm wind sweeping across the dune sea, he closes his eyes, shutting out the light of the twin suns, and reaches out into the Force.

Suddenly, the desert that sprawls in front of him doesn’t feel as barren as it looks. In the darkness behind his eyelids, he sees life forms gleam from where they reside, buried deep beneath the sand. A constellation of living beings, crawling and slithering, clicking and hissing. Hiding in the shadows of the canyons, finding relief from the scorching heat in the fresh soil. Much like Obi-Wan does from the Empire, from his old life, from all who would want him dead, from his mistakes.

Obi-Wan flinches from the wave of regret he feels rising from the depth of his mind and dives into the Force, into the crowd of lives that surround him.

Further from there, other force signatures shine in clusters above ground. Moisture farmers in the salt flats, merchants and criminals in the cities, pilots flying in and out of the atmosphere. Toydarians and Dugs and Humans and Hutts, all connected in the Force, however weak their access to it.

He lets the boundaries of his conscience become thinner and weaker, until he’s one with the planet and all that inhabits her. Almost completely lost in that galaxy of beings, tangled in that pulsating web of life, barely clinging to his own sense of self by a shimmering thread that connects him to his Force signature.

There’s no distinction between dark and light, there. Death and life are two in one, not opposite but complimentary, destruction and creation a faultless cycle, an endless sine wave that supports the structure of the planet, the very fabric of the universe and all that exists within it.

Obi-Wan finds peace in the knowledge that, in the Force, the greatest Jedi is as important as the smallest sandfly. In the grand scheme of things, in the infinite web of time and space, from its unknown beginning to its unforeseeable end, his entire existence is but a flicker, a pebble, unimportant and fundamental at the same time, just as everything else.

Still, relishing in peace and in light, he feels the brush of darkness against his conscience. His mistakes and his regrets. His fear and his hate. All he’s done and all he’s seen, all he’s loved and all he’s lost, and why he’s lost it.

Despite how much he tries to find shelter in the Force, the darkness in his heart feels impossible to escape. Despite how much he longs for peace, he knows he can’t hide from his past, and he knows, too, that there’s no point in avoiding it. Balance isn’t found in the rejection of reality, but in acceptance. To find peace, one needs to confront the darkness, not run from it and pretend it doesn’t exist. To let go, one must first fully grasp and understand.

And this is what he does, almost every day of his exile on Tatooine. He plunges in the depth of his consciousness and confronts his ghosts, hoping that by the time he will be allowed to train Luke he will have found the peace and balance necessary to be a good Master to him, to avoid the mistakes he did in the past.

He slides back into his consciousness without severing the connection with the Force but drawing from it the strength he needs to face his own mind.

At the very centre of himself, he visualises his life in the shape of a holocron, a simple crystal cube, glowing softly with a blue light, small enough to fit comfortably in his hand. It’s a shape that represents it well, he thinks, as he had the first time that image had presented itself to him.

It’s easy enough by now, to visualise himself sitting in his favourite spot in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, the sound of running water filling his ears, with the holocron floating mid-air in front of him. He pictures a kyber key flying from somewhere he knows to be his own heart into the holocron, which unlocks slowly, opening up at the corners, releasing a burst of blue light, and with it a myriad of images, bundles of moments and feelings from forty years of life.

Obi-Wan takes a deep breath to steady himself and plunges into the sea of his memories.

_Qui-Gon’s hands are braiding his hair. He smiles gently and waves a hand to bring a short leather strap to tie around the bottom of the braid and secure it. When he’s done, he reaches out to ruffle the bristly top of his short hair, and laughs as Obi-Wan squirms away._

_A mission he doesn’t remember the details of. He’s fighting against something, several somethings, lightsaber moving fast to intercept the shots being fired at him, when he feels a gust of Force pushing him to the side, to the ground. A flash of blaster fire passes through the point where his head had been half a second before. Qui-Gon doesn’t even turn to look, busy as he is fighting his share of enemies, but Obi-Wan can see his left hand move back to his side from where it was outstretched towards him. He sends gratitude through their bond and resumes the fight._

He had loved him, he had trusted him, he had died in his arms.

_Satine is looking into a fire, the flames flickering in orange hues over her face, highlighting golden specks in her dishevelled hair. He knows she feels gross, unkempt, unproper, because he’s seen her grimace at her reflection, he’s felt her distaste in the Force. The duchess of Mandalore, so used to luxury and fine things, forced to hide in a cave, nibbling at stale ration bars and drinking from forest streams. Although she hates it, she braves it silently, stern and proud, not one complaint escaping her chapped lips, and she’s never looked more beautiful in Obi-Wan’s eyes._

_The hangar is empty except for the two of them, Qui-Gon, and a couple of droids who are helping him load the ship. “Goodbye, then, duchess Kryze,” Obi-Wan says, forcing his smile to not look as sad as he feels. Satine sighs. “Goodbye, padawan Kenobi,” she says softly, not bothering to hide her feelings blossoming in tears at the corners of her eyes. She reaches out with one hand and touches Obi-Wan’s cheek. He closes his eyes and leans into her warm skin, and for a second he wishes she’d ask him to stay, because for a second he thinks that if she does, he’ll say yes. The second passes, her hand falls back, and when his eyes flutter open, she’s already turned her back to him and the ship and she’s walking towards the nearest exit. He makes no move to stop her._

She had loved him, she had trusted him, she had died in his arms.

_Queen Amidala hides behind layers of make-up and complicated hairstyles, but Obi-Wan can still see how young she is, and how scared. She reminds him of himself at her age, burdened with responsibilities she doesn’t feel worthy of. But she’s brave, she’s clever, she’s kind. She worries about her people and fights fearlessly for them. He admires her immensely, and thinks it’s an honour to fight at her side._

_Padmé stands in her repulsorpod. She’s wearing simpler robes now, her hair is brushed back in a single, long braid, but she still carries herself as a queen. Back straight, head high, eyes kind but intent, speaking clearly into the microphone. Her words are loaded with the strength of her beliefs, her trust in democracy, the power of her ideologies. She speaks against a senate bill that would divert once more republic resources to the war instead of the real needs of the people. Obi-Wan has never stopped admiring her, and he still thinks that it’s an honour to fight for a Republic that has people like her to defend it._

She had loved him, she had trusted him, she had died in his arms.

_Anakin-_

No. Blast it. Obi-Wan flinches, retracting from the part of his mind he’s been circling around to avoid.

It won’t help, he tells himself. You need to face it. You need to see it. Again, again, again.

_Anakin stands in front of him, bright blue eyes wide with a mix of emotions, strong enough that Obi-Wan can feel them ripple through the unrestrained Force that surrounds the boy. Fear, anticipation, gratitude, worry. Obi-Wan threads his hair through a wooden bead, pushing it up to secure the braid he just finished tightening. He stands up and reaches out to ruffle his hair, but when he touches Anakin’s head he decides for a caress, a soft touch from his temple to his cheek, that seems to soothe some of his padawan’s anxiety as he leans into his hand._

He scoffs at himself. Has he really always been rendered so weak and spineless by that pair of eyes? He knows the answer through another memory, a more complete one this time, reminding less of an advertising clip in the screen lining the streets of Coruscant, and more of a long holorecording of a battle they lost, painful and exhausting to watch, but necessary to see where they had gone wrong and learn from it.

_The light from the open door cuts a sharp angle into the darkness of the room, projecting the long shadows of Obi-Wan and Anakin on the decorated floor, but only for a second, the time of a breath, before the metal closes silently behind them and the High Council Chamber is plunged back into darkness._

_Yoda’s voice crackles through the heavy silence._

_“Step forward, Padawan.”_

_Obi-Wan hears Anakin sigh before starting to walk. He follows him for a few steps, but soon he stops and lets him reach on his own the centre of the room._

_Following a silent command that Obi-Wan feels ripple through the Force, all the Masters ignite their lightsabers, one by one, creating a circle of fizzling light, casting strange shadows around the room._

_Obi-Wan is the last to do so, and when he does, he can see Anakin turn to smile at him. He looks pale in the green and blue hues of the ring of light, but his smile is genuine, as happy as Obi-Wan hasn’t seen him in a while._

_“Anakin Skywalker,” Yoda calls him, and Anakin turns back towards the Grand Master, takes a step forward and kneels on the hard floor._

_Yoda’s lightsaber casts a long shadow on the wall behind him, making him appear much larger than he is. He seems to tower over Anakin as he raises his lightsaber over his head, as high as his small figure allows him. Slowly, he lowers it over Anakin’s left shoulder._

_“By the right of the council,” he calls out, his croaky voice ringing in the silence._

_Anakin keeps his chin high and his shoulders low, eyes fixed on the Grand Master’s face, proud and sure and, Obi-Wan can imagine it without having to see it, slightly defiant._

_“By the will of the Force,” Yoda continues, moving the lightsaber over Anakin’s head and onto his other shoulder, where his padawan braid lies atop the black leather of his tabard._

_Obi-Wan can feel Anakin tighten up in the Force, not out of nervousness but simply anticipation._

_“Dub thee I do,” says Yoda sternly. “Jedi,” he calls out forcefully, bringing his lightsaber down to slice Anakin’s braid near the base._

_Obi-Wan feels Anakin’s breath hitch at the wave of heat passing so close to his scalp and smiles to himself._

_“Knight of the Republic,” finally declares Yoda, raising his lightsaber straight in front of Anakin, who bows his head and reaches down to pick his braid up from the floor._

_As he watches his now former Padawan stand up, Obi-Wan feels pride bubble inside him, alongside a profound joy and the purest affection, all of it making his heart feel three times larger, a knot of emotion sitting almost uncomfortably tight in his chest. He’s not sure if he’s supposed to feel like this, to feel this much, but as soon as he turns, Anakin meets his eyes and breaks into a smile brighter than any lightsaber, and he knows that there’s no point in dwelling on this kind of doubts. He’s long since stopped to try assigning a label to what he sees in Anakin’s eyes, as his efforts over time have only proven useless when not counterproductive._

_Suddenly, the Masters switch off their lightsabers all at once and the room goes dark, for everyone but Obi-Wan, who is blessed by a special connection to the blinding glow of Anakin in the Force. Through it, he knows, Anakin can navigate the room as well as if it was day, and so he walks with sure steps away from the centre and towards the door._

_He’s supposed to go out in silence, immersed in reflection on his new role in the Order, but Obi-Wan can feel his hand purposefully brush against his own as he walks past him, the simple gesture amplified tenfold by a wave in their force bond. Gratitude and affection wash over Obi-Wan and he relishes it them, letting Anakin feel his own joy and pride in return._

_What he would usually try to conceal, now he lets out, somewhat freely but still careful to direct it only for Anakin to feel and keep it shielded from the perception of the Jedis that surround them._

_Once Anakin leaves the room, the shutters that had been covering the large windows of the Council Chamber start to roll up, slowly letting in the light from the distant Coruscant cityscape. Even though he can’t see much in that dim orange glow, Obi-Wan can still feel Yoda’s gaze on him._

_“Proud you must be, Master Kenobi,” the Grand Master croaks, raising his chin towards the man he addressed._

_Obi-Wan bows his head, more to hide a grimace than in reverence. It feels like a trick question, as personal pride does not become a Jedi, and he knows not to be tricked into saying something out of step._

_“I fulfilled the promise I made to my old Master, training Anakin to the best of my ability, serving the will of the Force.”_

_He knows the Master can see through his non-answer, but he’s glad that he doesn’t press further, choosing to humble him more explicitly._

_“Still much to learn Anakin has. Test him further the war will. Clouded still his destiny is, and revealed to us the will of the force is not.”_

_A lesson and a reprimand, which Obi-Wan takes gracefully, as a learner should always from someone he knows to be wiser and more experienced. In an exercise of self-control, he manages to keep his expression blank, though Yoda’s words reignite the doubts that reside, constantly, at the back of his mind. It was his mistake, he knows, to let them out of sight in favour of unproper emotions._

_It’s easy to get swept up in the wake of Anakin’s feelings, strong as they are and close as Obi-Wan is to them. Sometimes he wonders if he managed to train Anakin in the ways of the Jedi as much as the boy had eroded his adherence to the Code._

_“I will continue to do my duty, to the Order and the Republic,” he tells Yoda, still, truthfully. He doesn’t plan on ever doing differently, however strong the temptation, however grave his mistakes, however deep his attachments._

_Yoda is silent for a moment, then he nods slowly._

_“May the Force be with you, Master Kenobi,” he says in lieu of a dismissal._

_Obi-Wan bows his head again and then, with no further hesitation, he leaves the room._

_He’s not surprised to find Anakin just outside, leaning against the wall, playing with the severed braid. He startles at the sound of Obi-Wan’s steps and lurches forward to meet him, worry nestled in a crinkle in his forehead. It reminds Obi-Wan of his own Knighting Ceremony, now more than a decade ago, when he had walked out of the Chamber to find a nine-years-old Anakin waiting in the same spot, but sitting on the cold floor with his knees hugged to his chest._

_The boy had smiled tentatively, same as the young man he’s become is doing now._

_“Is everything alright, Master?” he asks and Obi-Wan doesn’t have the heart to correct him, to remind him that he’s not his master anymore._

_He nods instead, and much to Anakin’s surprise, he reaches for his forearm and pulls him into a hug. Anakin is startled for a second, but he’s quick to respond, eagerly, wrapping his arms around his master’s chest, smiling as he holds him close. They squeeze each other tightly for a long second. The Force feels warm around them, content even, somehow, in a way that reminds them of satiation._

_Obi-Wan is the one to pull away, slowly, letting his hands caress Anakin’s back and arms as he takes a step back._

_“I am so proud of you, Anakin,” he says, letting his barriers fall to smile, wide and genuine and full of emotion. “And I know Qui-Gon would be too. He would be so happy to see what a fantastic Jedi you’ve become,” he adds, fighting the tears that knot in his throat._

_The Force tightens around them, and seems to push them closer, and Obi-Wan is unable to stop himself from reaching out to grab Anakin’s forearm again._

_He’s not new to the conflict that runs through him as he stares into Anakin’s eyes. Pride and doubt coexist in his mind, as do, in his heart, the immense love for all that Anakin is, complex and flawed, and the unshakeable fear of what he could become if his power was directed to the dark side._

_Yoda’s warning rings loudly in his head, but still, when those eyes light up, slightly glossy, and crinkle at the corners as Anakin’s whole face blossoms with happiness, little else matters._

_In a couple of days, they will go back on the battlefield, back to the war that is splitting the galaxy in half, and he’ll have plenty of worrying to do there. Tonight, they deserve a moment of respite, a peaceful evening to celebrate Anakin’s accomplishment, something good to remember in the hard months to come._

_“Come,” he says, pulling him closer and linking their arms together before starting down the hallway. “Dinner’s waiting for us.”_

That night, in the end, had been worth the sense of guilt that hit Obi-Wan in the following days, when they had been called back for duty without having had the time to guide Anakin in meditation on the meaning of his newly acquired role within the Order. It was a lovely memory, an important moment to strengthen their relationship in a moment of change, and it’s too much even for him to blame what had happened on one concession.

But it hadn’t been just the one, had it? And that’s where his questions start. How many of Obi-Wan’s concessions had contributed to Anakin’s downfall? Would it have been different had he been stricter? Had he been less understanding, less open, less caring? But then, he also wonders if all he did was ever enough to meet all of Anakin’s needs. Maybe he had been too much of a master when Anakin needed a friend, and in spite of everything he had done for him, all the exceptions he’d made, the blind eyes he’d turned, the scoldings he’d avoided giving, the rules he’d broken, after all of that, still, in the end, Anakin hadn’t trusted him enough to see past the Chancellor’s lies.

Obi-Wan’s love had been too much and not enough at the same time. Always running to his rescue but never getting there quite in time. Always trying to be there for him but never getting him quite right. And although it’s impossible to tell if any of his action could have changed Anakin’s destiny, the doubt still haunts him, burning in his mind and his heart like a wound caused by blaster fire.

Thinking about fire brings forward memories that flash with the bright orange and red of lava.

_Padmé falling on the landing platform. The profile of the mining facility, dark against the smoky red sky. Anakin accusing him, screaming, fighting him, losing. His pain in the Force, the hate in his eyes._

No. Not Mustafar, thinks Obi-Wan, turning away from the images flashing in front of him. He’s relived it already too many times, in meditation and in sleep and in wake, almost constantly in the first months of his exile. However painful the memory, Obi-Wan has come to realise that what happened on Mustafar was merely the inevitable end of a process that had been set off much earlier.

He’s even successfully fought the regret for not killing Vader there, accepting, not without difficulty, that, in an ironic twist of fate, the only Jedi who knew Anakin well enough to beat him was also the only one who could have never been able to finish him. He knows now, as he knew then, that while killing Vader wouldn’t have stopped the Chancellor from taking power, but it would have meant the end of Obi-Wan, taking from him the strength he needed to go back to Padmé, to save the children, to fulfil his duty to the last of Anakin’s legacy.

Not Mustafar, then, but a similar scene on a similarly cursed planet.

_Anakin raises a hand and pushes the jumpspeeder into the river of lava flowing around them. No physical pain had ever hurt as much as it does to see Anakin like this, staring at him with no emotion, his face unnaturally pale, his beautiful blue eyes turned to amber. When he reaches out in the Force, he finds the edge of their bond charred, as if severed by a burst of lava, and Anakin’s signature engulfed by darkness. No matter how fast he rushed across the canyon to reach him, he was too late, and now the evidence of his failure stands in front of him, and for a terrifying moment the weight of his mistakes threatens to crush him._

_When he speaks, Anakin’s voice is heavy with burning fear, with the weight of responsibility, and his words cut deep into Obi-Wan as he realises that, with all his might, the Son has only managed to convince Anakin to turn not out of selfishness or desire for power, but by leading him to believe that to be the only way to bring peace to the galaxy, even if it meant sacrificing his own soul._

_“If I don’t get the Father’s blessing to leave, it’ll haunt me forever,” Anakin had said earlier before leaving the ship. He had always been so scared of making mistakes, of missing out on something he could help with, of disappointing those who counted on him, of being to weak to save those he loved._

_To see the Son manipulate Anakin’s goodness for his own wicked means fills Obi-Wan with a rage he rarely felt before, the same blinding anger that guided his lightsaber to cut Darth Maul in half all those years ago. It’s his unwavering faith in Anakin that leads him into action now, made stronger and surer by the mission not to stop him but to save him._

Even months after Mortis, the image of Anakin turned to the dark side had come back to haunt him in his nightmares, in his sleepless nights, in the moments during battle when Anakin showed more power than usual, in some disagreements they had over tactics or the outcome of a mission. And still, despite his fears, he distinctly remembers his love for him never faltering, his trust in Anakin never dwindling, not then, not now, not ever.

After all, that one moment of dread was nothing against the backdrop of all the times they had been happy together. A flurry of fragments glowing at the very centre of Obi-Wan’s mind, surrounding him with warmth as he reaches into them, the same as the familiar, comforting touch of Anakin’s force signature, open and overwhelmingly strong through their bond, as it used to be when he was younger, before he started to shield himself and retract and hide his feelings.

_Finding him asleep in a tree in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, hours after he had sent him down to practice meditation._

_Being in their quarters on the way back from a mission, watching him tinker with his mechanical arm while he was supposed to write a report for the Council._

_The way his face lit up the first time they travelled to a forest planet, how he leaned to look out the viewports in awe whenever they flew over mountain ranges, how he was rendered speechless the first time he saw the sea._

_Teaching him how to fight, how to swim, how to take care of his lightsaber, how to brew caf properly, how to shave._

_Celebrating a particularly successful mission with a Neuvian sundae at Dex’s Diner when he was younger and a bottle of emerald wine once he was old enough._

_The first time he realised Anakin had grown to be taller than him and the first time he had teased him about it, which coincided with the first time he had managed to genuinely beat him in a lightsaber duel during practice._

_Watching him train Ahsoka, seeing her grow stronger and bolder and so alarmingly similar to him, and seeing himself in the way Anakin doted over her, worried for her and learned from her_

_The few lazy mornings they were blessed with during the war, when he let him wake up to the smell of freshly brewed caf and warm bread filling up their quarters._

_The last time they had spoken before Mustafar, the last time he had looked into his eyes to find them still bright and blue and full of happiness for the praise he had just received, full of hope._

“Oh, blast it!” Obi-Wan screams as he whips back from the memories, so forcefully that he’s ripped from his connection to the Force and back to his corporeal self.

Startled, he jumps up from the rock he was sitting on, only to have his legs give out below him, pushing him to his knees, panting, holding a hand to his chest to press against an old phantom pain. He shuts his eyes against the brightness of the suns and feels tears prickle the insides of his eyelids. For a long moment his heart had felt splendidly whole again, and now it’s as if it’s breaking again for the first time.

This is why it’s so hard to find balance, he knows. How can he accept what he lost if every time he gets so caught up in the beauty of all that had been taken from him? They deserved so much more, so much better, and the unfairness of it all doesn’t stop stinging.

He keeps failing because, although he knows it serves no purpose, he can’t stop obsessing over finding the exact moment where it all went wrong, the last crossroad where they could have taken the right path, the first domino piece that was knocked down, and he’s ashamed to think of what he would do to go back to it, what he would give up for one last chance to save Anakin.

Not the galaxy, nor the Jedi Order or the Republic. He would give it all up to save Anakin, to take him back from the dark side, even if it meant that everything else would still be destroyed.

‘What a lousy Jedi you’ve become,’ he tells himself bitterly, with a tone that reminds more him of Master Windu’s than his own.

‘You’re nothing but a weak old man, and you’ll never find balance, you’ll never find peace,’ the voice continues in his rattled mind, too tired from the meditation effort to keep his negative thoughts at bay. ‘You’ll never be strong enough to train Luke, you will fail him the way you failed Anakin.’

Eventually, it’s the thought of Luke that gives him the strength to pick himself up from the dusty ground, from his literal rock bottom, and sit back upon the boulder.

He stares at the horizon, takes a deep breath and wipes away the salty streaks that evaporated tears had left down his cheeks. He feels as steady as the distant dunes he sees quivering in the heat, but still he steadies himself with a series of deep breaths and then, with the image of young Luke, golden hair and rosy cheeks, pinned atop his mind as a reminder of his goal, he reaches out into the Force and starts again.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything for these characters in literal ages, but it's only fair that I should come back with 5k words of clone wars-inspired angst. This was supposed to have more scenes, but I felt it was getting too long already so I closed it there. Might write more in the future, or keep the ideas for other one-shots.
> 
>  _Grazie mille_ to Elisa and Camilla, my trusted shipping/ranting/crying about tcw companions. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading this fic as much as I suffered writing it!  
> If you want to say hi, you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/chiickpii)!
> 
> See y'all soon xoxo


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